The
Berghof In November 1938 the English fashion
magazine Homes & Gardens profiled on page
193-195 the home of Adolf Hitler, dictator, for its
readers: "Hitler's Mountain home, a visit to 'Haus
Wachenfeld' in the Bavarian Alps, written and illustrated
by Ignatius Phayre." [source]
We republish the article here for the convenience of
academics and scholars.

The text of this article reads:

Hitler's
Mountain Home

T
IS over twelve years since Herr Hitler fixed on the site
of his one and only home. It had to be close to the
Austrian border, hardly ten miles from Mozart's own
mediæval Salzburg. At first no more than a hunter's
shack, "Haus Wachenfeld" has grown, until it is to-day
quite a handsome Bavarian chalet, 2,000 feet up on the
Obersalzberg amid pinewoods and cherry orchards. Here, in
the early days, Hitler's widowed sister, Frau Angela
Raubal, kept house for him on a "peasant" scale. Then, as
his famous book, Mein Kampf ("My Struggle") became
a best-seller of astonishing power (4,500,000 copies of
it have been sold), Hitler began to think of replacing
that humble shack by a house and garden of suitable
scope. In this matter he has throughout been his own
architect.

There is nothing pretentious about the
Führer's little estate. It is one that any merchant
of Munich or Nuremberg might possess in these lovely
hills.

The entrance hall is filled with a curious
display of cactus plants in majolica pots. Herr Hitler's
study is fitted as a modern office, and leading out of
this is a telephone exchange. From here it is possible
for the Führer to invite his friends or Ministers to
fly over to Berchesgarden, landing on his own aerodrome
just below the chalet lawns.

The site commands the fairest view in all
Europe. This is to say much, I know. But in these
Bavarian Alps there is a peculiar softness of greenery,
with snow-white cascades and forest-clad pinnacles, like
the Schönfeldspitze and Teufelshörner.

Hitler's home looks out upon his native
Austria. Meals are often served on the terrace on little
tables shaded by big canvas umbrellas. From this
view-point a chain of drowsy lakes is seen far below,
with ancient shrine-chapels hidden in ferny folds of
towering rocks. And since the Reichsführer settled
here as "Squire of Wachenfeld," the whole region has been
starred with motor speedways, even as far as
Oberammergau.

The colour scheme throughout this bright,
airy chalet is a light jade green. In outside rooms, like
the sun-parlour, chairs and tables are of white plaited
cane. Here Hitler will read the home and foreign papers
which his own air-pilot, Hansel Baur, brings him every
day from Berlin before lunch.

At this altitude the Bavarian sun is at its
most genial. Even at Christmastime when deep snows are
out, Haus Wachenfield basks in warmth like the
Engadine's. The effect of light and air in the house is
heightened by the rolling and trilling of many Hartz
mountain canaries in gilded cages which hang or stand in
most of the rooms.

The curtains are of printed linen, or fine
damask in the softer shades. The Führer is his own
decorator, designer, and furnisher, as well as architect.
He is constantly enlarging the place, building on new
guest-annexes, and arranging in these his favourite
antiques -- chiefly German furniture of the eighteenth
century, for which agents in Munich are on the look
out.

It is a mistake to suppose that week-end
guests are all, or even mainly, State officials. Hitler
delights in the society of brilliant foreigners,
especially painters, singers, and musicians. As host he
is a droll raconteur; we all know how surprised were Mr.
Lloyd George and his party when they accepted an
invitation to Haus Wachenfield.

The guest bedrooms are hung with old
engravings. But more interesting than any of these to the
visitor are the Führer's own water-colour sketches.
Time was when a hungry Hitler was glad to raise a few
marks by selling these little works; none measure more
than about eight inches square, and each is signed "A.
Hitler" -- unmistakably, if also illegibly!

The gardens are laid out simply enough.
Lawns at different levels are planted with flowering
shrubs, as well as roses and other blooms in due season.
The Führer, I may add, has a passion for cut flowers
in his home, as well as for music.

Every morning at nine he goes out for a
walk with his gardeners about their day's work. These
men, like the chaffeur and air-pilot, are not so much
servants as local friends. A life-long vegetarian at
table, Hitler's kitchen plots are both varied and heavy
in produce. Even in his meatless diet Hitler is something
of a gourmet -- as Sir John Simon and Mr. Anthony
Eden were surprised to note when they dined with him in
the Presidial Palace at Berlin. His Bavarian chef,
Herr Kannenberg, contrives an imposing array of
vegetarian dishes, savoury and rich, pleasing to the eye
as well as to the palate, and all conforming to the
dietic standards which Hitler exacts. but at Haus
Wachenfeld he keeps a generous table for guests of normal
tastes. Here bons viveurs like Field Marshals Göring
and von Blomberg, and Joachim von Ribbentrop will
forgather at dinner. Elaborate dishes like Caneton
à la presse and truite saumoné
à la Monseigneur will then be served, with
fine wines and liqueurs of von Ribbentrop's expert
choosing. Cigars and cigarettes are duly lighted at this
terrace feast -- though Hitler himself never smokes, nor
does he take alcohol in any form.

All visitors are shown their host's model
kennels, where he breeds magnificent Alsatians. Some of
his pedigree pets are allowed the run of the house,
especially on days when Herr Hitler gives a "Fun Fair" to
the local children. On such a day, when State affairs are
over, the Squire himself, attended by some of his guests,
will stroll through the woods into hamlets above and
below. There rustics sit at cottage doors carving
trinkets and toys in wood, ivory, and bone. It is then
the little ones are invited to the house. Coffee, cakes,
fruits, and sweets are laid for them on trestle tables in
the grassy orchards. Then Frauen Goebbels and
Göring, in dainty Bavarian dress, perform dances and
folk-songs, while the bolder spirits are given joy-rides
in Herr Hitler's private airplane.

Nor must I forget to mention the
archery-butts at the back of the chalet. It is strange to
watch the burly Field-Marshall Goring, as chief of the
most formidable air force in Europe, taking a turn with
the bow and arrow at straw targets of twenty-five yards
range. There is as much to-do about those scarlet
bulls'-eyes as though the fate of nations depended on a
full score.

But I have said enough to convey the idea
of a sunny sub-alpine home, hundreds of miles from
Berlin's uproar, and set amid an unsophisticated
peasantry of carvers and hunters. This is a only home in
which Hitler can laugh and take his ease -- or even
"conduct tours" by means of the tripod telescope which he
himself operates on the terrace for his visitors. "This
place is mine," he says simply. "I built it with money
that I earned." Then he takes you into his library, where
you note that quite half the books are on history,
painting, architecture, and music. When it is fine enough
to dine in the open air, one sees a piano made ready for
the after-dinner concert. Local talent will supply violin
and cello for pieces by Mozart or Brahms. But at the
piano itself it is always that English-speaking giant (he
is 6 ft. 4 ins.) -- Dr. Ernst ("Putzi") Hanfstaengl who
presides as a composer of all-German renown.